“Dead,” was the ominous response.
There was a short silence, during which the naturalists stared at Migo, hardly knowing what to say.
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” said Mr. Holton at last. “What caused his death?”
“He killed by a lion,” was the answer from the black. “It was a big man-eater. Kaika, he was in a village one day. Big man-eater he slip up on Kaika. Break Kaika’s back. He die in little time.”
The news sobered the Americans somewhat, for they began to realize anew that Africa, although a land of romance and adventure, was also a place of tragedy. Especially were Bob and Joe stirred by Migo’s words. This was the second casualty they had heard of since landing at the Dark Continent, the first being the case of Mr. Seabury in Mombasa.
“I sincerely hope nothing happens to our expedition,” said Mr. Holton gravely. “Especially since the boys are with us.”
The naturalists were delighted when Migo announced that he could secure the services of Noko, the native that Mr. Seabury had mentioned. For he was one of the very few who knew of the Forest of Mystery. He had recently returned from guiding another safari into a region far to the south. Migo assured the whites that he was unusually brave and daring and knew exactly which men to pick out for the expedition. He lived in a little hut at the edge of Mbarara.
“We’ll go there now,” said Joe’s father. “Migo, will you come with us? We may need your help.”
The native was more than willing, and together they went afoot, except for Mr. Holton, who drove the car. The automobile was now filled to capacity with supplies to be used by the expedition, several necessary additions being furnished by Migo, who kept a store.
In a small thatched hut they found an unusually tall coal-black native, who nodded as he greeted them.